Dinner was over.
Ino added enough kerosene to the oil lamp so that its flame could illuminate the entire room as much as possible.
Speaking of kerosene, one had to marvel at the quirks of this town's residents. They would never pay money for a story, but they could 'buy tickets' with all sorts of miscellaneous items, including the small can of kerosene being used now, which was one such payment.
After finishing this task, Ino sat back in his chair, making small talk.
"Old John! Why do you always use flint to start a fire? While I don't oppose being thrifty, we can afford a couple of packets of matches for a copper coin."
As he spoke, he casually took out a new box of matches he had bought that afternoon from his bag. It was a large box, and judging by its appearance, it would last a long time.
To be honest, after spending this time together, Ino had truly developed a sense of compassion for the solitary old man.
It might not seem like much now, but if you extend the timeline to many years later, the question becomes unavoidable: when he has no children, no savings, and is unable to work, what will become of Old John?
But his abilities were limited, and there wasn't much he could do. The best he could manage was buying some matches, making the old man's later years a little easier.
Just as Ino placed the matches on the table, Old John was momentarily stunned, a mysterious sadness flickering in his eyes.
Sensing that something was off with Old John, Ino wisely chose silence. He truly had no way to help him right now.
Moreover, no one knew why Old John was sad. If he spoke rashly and inadvertently angered him, that would be a great loss.
Silence became the dominant theme of the shabby room.
A long time passed...
The sadness in Old John's eyes gradually faded, replaced by a touch of determination.
"Thank you for the gift, young Ino. I'll take the matches!"
Unlike his usual cheerful self, Old John's voice was a bit hoarse.
Upon hearing this, Ino didn't speak immediately.
Because after a month, the long-missed feeling of returning finally presented itself at this moment.
"It seems that the reason for not leaving lies with Old John."
Immediately, he had his answer and recalled a rare situation known as a story within a story.
In simple terms, most places return to peace once a story ends. But some special places continue to generate new stories even after the original one concludes. Though rare, such places do exist.
Back to the present.
Returning to his senses, Ino said in a relaxed tone, "I'm glad you like it. Consider it a farewell gift, as you know, I can't afford anything more valuable."
"Farewell?" Old John paused but quickly understood the reason, muttering, "Yes, it's true that Bards can't stay in one place for too long. Leaving is inevitable; I should have known."
"Ha-ha, you're right. We Bards won't stay in one place for too long. Each Bard is like the wind, and the wind is a transparent river, flowing endlessly with the changing terrain."
Ino responded with a smile.
"But the river's destination is the vast ocean." Old John adopted the look of someone experienced, advising:
"Listen to me, young man! If you find the right place and the right person, stay there. Life is full of passion, but it ultimately returns to tranquility. You can't wander forever."
Hearing Old John's advice, Ino didn't immediately reject it. After pondering for a few seconds, he replied:
"Maybe you're right! The river's end is the sea. But the sea turns into rainwater, which, like cold meteors, rides soft clouds and falls back to earth once again."
"Heh! I'm actually debating with a Bard." Old John chuckled, shaking his head as if to end the topic and said no more.
But Ino didn't want to end it just yet. Before leaving, he wanted to console the elderly man, as the sadness that flashed in his eyes couldn't be hidden.
"Old John, do you know what I like most?"
Before waiting for a reply, he continued:
"I like the sun because it's both a rising sun and a setting sun at every moment. When it descends with its fading rays, it is simultaneously rising, spreading its warm morning light elsewhere."
"So, Old John, everything has two sides. Don't be troubled by your usual way of thinking, leaving you unable to break free for a lifetime."
After speaking, Ino fell silent. Many things are best when touched lightly, as saying too much is futile.
Similarly, he made up his mind to pack up and leave early the next morning.
About five or six minutes passed.
Just when Ino thought the conversation was over, a soft sigh echoed in the room.
Looking up, he saw Old John sitting across the table, as if he had shed years of burdens. Although his appearance hadn't changed, he looked much younger, even his gray hair seemed less white.
At this moment, Old John suddenly asked, "All these days I've been listening to your stories. But now, are you interested in hearing one of mine?"
Ino didn't speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He lifted one hand to his ear, making a gesture of listening intently.
"Ha-ha-ha, you little rascal..."
Old John was amused by the comical gesture, and after a brief adjustment, he began to tell his tale:
"The story doesn't take place in a distant land; it happened here, in this town. There once was a young man who yearned for the free world outside. Whenever a minstrel passed through the town, he would eagerly inquire about the outside world..."
"...As time went on, the young man finally succumbed to reality. He got married to a woman who wasn't particularly beautiful but was very kind, and this gradually settled his restless heart."
At this point, Old John's face radiated a kind of nostalgic happiness.
"But fate's twists are always unexpected. His wife became pregnant, and on the day of childbirth, she tragically passed away."
"With a new daughter and without his wife! This blow rekindled his restless heart. He wanted to escape, to flee far away... A few more years passed, and he entrusted his 5-year-old daughter to his brother and left the town."
At this point, Old John became agitated, coughing, and his breathing grew short, his eyes full of regret and remorse.
After a while, he resumed, his voice faltering:
"...To the young man's surprise, his diligent and honest brother developed a drinking habit after their elderly mother passed away. He became sloppy, lazy, and idle. To afford his drinking, he made his young niece go barefoot in the cold winter to sell matches to make ends meet."
As the story continued, Ino noticed tears seemed to glisten in Old John's eyes.
Likewise, Ino had an epiphany. He instantly recalled a famous and well-known story—**The Little Match Girl**.
As the tale went on, Ino was now certain that Old John was the irresponsible father who abandoned his daughter for over 20 years.
...
Old John's story finally came to an end.
The room fell into silence, only the occasional popping of the oil lamp breaking the stillness.
A long time passed.
Finally, Ino spoke softly, "Old John, I also have a story about matches. Would you like to hear it?"